


Don’t You (Forget About Me)

by Spikedluv



Category: American Idol RPF, David Cook (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Canon, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David runs into Cook after months of not seeing or speaking to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t You (Forget About Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> First-time. Semi-AU because I played fast and loose with the boys’ appearances at AI10. Written for maerhys for the writing meme; she requested Kradam or Cookleta, backstage shenanigans, people notice all of the ~touching, frantic chance meeting at _________ (airport, concert, party, industry event).
> 
> Written: August 17, 2011

After several months of silence David had stopped waiting for Cook to call him. For a brief text. A mention on Twitter. And he’d finally removed Cook from his Google alerts because it hurt too much to find out what he was up to secondhand. Which is probably why he was blind-sided by the information that Cook was there that night, at the American Idol taping of the Top 2 performances, and that he’d be up on that very same stage with a live performance of the goodbye song, Don’t You Forget About Me. David snorted at the irony of the song title.

From the moment he’d been informed of Cook’s presence, David wanted nothing more than to turn right around and walk out, but he couldn’t because that would be rude. Instead he forced a smile and told the person who had dropped the bomb on him that he was looking forward to seeing Cook perform. Still, once he was in his seat and the show started, he could only keep half of his attention on what was happening on the stage; the other half busy trying to determine when he could sneak out without making it obvious that he was trying to avoid Cook.

All of his fretting and planning, however, were for naught because halfway through the show one of the producers approached David during a commercial break and asked him to come backstage after Cook’s performance, which would close the show, so they could get some publicity shots and give them a few minutes together in front of the press.

David’s brain froze and he couldn’t come up with a reason he had to leave quickly enough to get out of it. Which was probably just as well because he was a _terrible_ liar. Plus, he would’ve felt bad at the dishonesty once he’d gotten far enough away from Cook to be able to think about anything else.

For the rest of the show David was nauseated. Unfortunately, he didn’t _actually_ throw up, which would have given him the excuse he needed to make his escape. Instead he had to sit there pretending to have a great time while he was dreading the upcoming meeting with Cook. The fact that Cook looked and sounded amazing, and made David nostalgic for the days when they were friends that hung out together and texted each other frequently, only made him more anxious about the upcoming ‘reunion’, as the producer had called it.

David considered dragging his feet, waiting for the studio to empty out so that Cook might be gone by the time he got backstage. Even that small rebellion was thwarted by the producers, who sent one of the PAs to collect him. They must be really worried about this season’s crop of contestants if they needed to fall back on the hoopla that had surrounded him and Cook at the end of season 7, David thought uncharitably. And then immediately felt bad, so he plastered a smile on his face and followed the PA.

There was so much going on backstage that David once again allowed himself to hope that the impending meeting with Cook might be postponed if he somehow managed to get lost in all the confusion. But that was not to be. The PA led David unerringly in Cook’s direction.

Cook was talking to Simon Fuller when he caught sight of David over the other man’s shoulder. Something flickered across Cook’s face, but it was gone quickly, replaced by a smile that looked just as fake to David as his own felt. He’d known that they were no longer friends, but the proof of it on Cook’s face, that he was just as uncomfortable with this reunion as David was, cut like a knife.

“Archie!” Cook said.

Cook drew David into a one armed hug that almost felt like the hugs they used to share, and included him in his conversation with Fuller. Randy came over, and Nigel, and David found himself leaning into Cook, indulging in the feel of his arm over his shoulder, the heat all along his side. When he remembered that he and Cook weren’t like that anymore he pulled away, put a few inches of space between them. David found himself laughing at Cook’s stupid jokes, and smiling back when Cook smiled at him, but the pain of missing this closeness made it impossible for David to keep the smile from going tight.

After Nigel left them, and before anyone else could approach, Cook took David’s arm and dragged him down the hall to one of the green rooms. David expected Cook’s band to be inside, but the room was empty.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Cook said.

“What’s going on with _me_?” David repeated, surprised (and a little bit frustrated) by the question. “Maybe I’m finding it more difficult than you apparently are to pretend that we’re still friends,” he spat, and then turned away from the surprise on Cook’s face because he couldn’t believe he’d said that.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have . . . .”

“Archie . . . .”

“Don’t, okay, Cook, please? Let’s just . . . get this over with and then you can go back to ignoring me.”

Gosh, could he sound any more like he was still 17?

“Archie,” Cook said again.

Cook was closer this time, and he placed his hand on David’s back, right between his shoulder blades. David tried to shrug off his hand, but Cook just slid his hand up to David’s shoulder and squeezed. David would’ve pulled away, but he’d boxed himself in; if he took even half a step forward he’d run his face into the door.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Cook said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

David thought about lying, telling Cook that he hadn’t been hurt, but it was probably pretty clear from his outburst that he _had_ been hurt. Instead David shrugged and said, “It doesn’t matter,” and tried to sound like he meant it.

“Jesus,” Cook swore under his breath. “Of course it matters, Archie. Look, could you turn around? Please?”

David knew it would be a bad idea to look at Cook, but Cook’s thumb was rubbing the back of his neck and he couldn’t think of a good excuse not to do as he’d asked. David turned around, but he couldn’t bring himself to look into Cook’s face, so he stared at the V of white shirt visible beneath Cook’s jacket.

“Fuck it,” Cook said, and both arms went around David, pulling him into a hug.

David didn’t pull away, but he stood frozen, uncertain what to do with his arms. His first instinct was to wrap them around Cook, but he wasn’t sure if that was okay anymore.

“If it makes any difference,” Cook said, “I missed the hell out of you.”

“Then why . . . ?” David said before he thought, and then cut himself off before he could finish.

“Because I’m an idiot, apparently,” Cook said, self-deprecatingly.

“You’re not an idiot,” David automatically replied, and now he did raise his arms and return the hug, his face pressed to Cook’s chest.

Cook didn’t answer, at least not with words. He tightened his hold on David and pressed his lips to the top of David’s head. It wasn’t a kiss, exactly, except for how it kind of felt like one. David closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much he liked it. David lost track of how long they stood there, holding each other, but it felt good so he didn’t say anything that might make Cook let go.

Finally Cook said, “The reason I didn’t call, it sounds kind of stupid now, was because I was trying to figure some things out.”

“Did you? Figure them out, I mean.”

“No,” Cook said. “I think my mistake was thinking I could figure it out alone.”

“Can I help?” David offered before he could stop himself.

“I think.” Cook swallowed hard before continuing. “I think maybe you can.”

“Okay, anything.” The thought that Cook still wanted them to be friends made David feel so light he thought he might float away if Cook wasn’t holding on to him. It also made him feel guilty that he’d give up so easily on their friendship, expecting the worst.

Cook lifted one hand from David’s back and touched his neck. “It might be easier . . . .” He pressed his thumb against David’s jaw and raised his face. “If I show you.”

David didn’t know what to expect, but Cook lowering his head and pressing their lips together wouldn’t even have made his top 100 list if he’d been able to come up with one. He stood frozen, looking up at Cook when Cook pulled back. David darted his tongue out and licked his bottom lip. He shivered when Cook’s eyes followed the motion.

“Um . . . .”

“Yeah,” Cook said with a humorless laugh. “So, I’ve got some feelings I don’t know what to do about, and I couldn’t call you because I was afraid you’d be able to tell that I was falling in love with you.”

“Oh.” Even after the kiss David hadn’t expected that. No one had ever . . . well, except for screaming fangirls, but they didn’t count.

“I don’t want this to affect our friendship,” Cook said. “Except for how it already had, obviously, because I didn’t know how to deal.” Cook shook his head and loosened his hold on David.

“I still want us to be friends, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

David couldn’t take it anymore – having Cook pull away from him, bottle back up everything he felt. “No.”

Cook looked like he’d been slapped, and David realized he’d misinterpreted his comment. He decided that Cook had been right, showing was better than telling. David released Cook and curled his fingers in the lapels of his jacket. He dragged Cook back against him, and Cook lost his balance, knocked them both back a step until David’s back was against the door.

“Archie . . . ,” Cook started, but David couldn’t let him finish, not when he sounded like that, so broken.

David used his hold on Cook’s jacket for leverage and went up on his toes. A moan was drawn out of him as his body slid along Cook’s the entire way. Cook’s eyes went wide when he realized what Archie was going to do. He opened his mouth, but whether it was to say David’s name, or tell him to stop, David didn’t want to hear it. He pressed their lips together and took the sound of it into his mouth.

David didn’t have any idea what he was doing, not really, and Cook wasn’t _helping_. He whined against Cook’s lips and it startled him out of whatever place he’d gone to.

“Archie, what . . . ?”

“Please,” Archie said. “Cook, please.”

Cook looked at him, gaze traveling over David’s face, searching for something, though David didn’t know what it was. And then Cook nodded to himself and moved, determined and certain. He crushed their mouths together, tongue sliding over David’s lips, and then between them.

David moaned again as Cook’s tongue licked into his mouth. He’d never been kissed like this before, never been kissed by someone who could take him apart so thoroughly. David touched his tongue to Cook’s, and Cook _growled_. The kiss became even more forceful, as if Cook wanted to possess him, and Cook pushed David into the door, his body blanketing him.

David whimpered when Cook pressed his thigh between David’s legs. He rolled his hips, tentatively at first, but once he got a taste of what it felt like to thrust against Cook’s leg he did so with more purpose. David shuddered as they rocked together. He let go of Cook’s jacket and clung to his shoulder, buried his fingers in Cook’s hair.

David whined when Cook broke the kiss, pressing his face to David’s neck and pulling back, taking away that delicious friction.

“No,” Cook said, his hands moving in soothing circles on David’s back. “We have to stop or I’m going to come in my pants.” He gave an embarrassed laugh.

David made a sound that meant _yes_ , and _me too_ , and _please_. Cook looked at him, really _looked_ at him, and then his face when all soft. He touched David’s face.

“Archie.”

Cook pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, behind his ear, and then back to his cheek. “Can I . . . ?”

Cook slid his hand around David’s hip, slowly, giving David time to stop him. David didn’t. Not even when Cook covered him, gently squeezed him. David let his head fall back against the door and pushed into Cook’s hand, panting.

“Will you let me?” Cook asked.

Cook studied David’s face, but it didn’t matter what it was, David wasn’t going to tell him no. He nodded, and Cook slowly slid his hand up until he reached David’s waistband. David gasped as Cook undid the button and lowered the zip. Cook pushed his hand inside, beneath David’s briefs, and stroked him.

David made a sound he didn’t even _recognize_. Cook covered David’s lips with his own, taking all the noises he couldn’t stop making as Cook stroked him into his mouth. Cook pulled away and David scrabbled to bring him back, but Cook slipped through his fingers.

Cook went down to his knees, and he took David’s slacks and briefs with him. David shivered when cold air touched overheated skin, and then he made a sound he was pretty sure they heard out on the sidewalk in front of the studio when the wet heat of Cook’s mouth covered him. He got his fingers into Cook’s hair and pulled, reflexively pushing into Cook’s mouth even though he’d never . . . no one had ever . . . .

Cook slid his hands down David’s thighs, and then up, beneath his shirt, over his belly, and down again, as if he was just enjoying the feel of David’s skin beneath his hands. Now that he had David in his mouth, Cook seemed to be in no hurry. He ignored the fingers tightening in his hair and took his time, licking and sucking David as if he wanted to memorize the taste of him, the way his breath quickened when he flicked his tongue just so.

“Cook,” David said, and gosh, his voice sounded hoarse, as if he’d been screaming.

Cook looked up at him and caught David’s eyes. He took David in further, and he sucked harder, and almost as soon as David felt the pressure building he was coming, biting his tongue so he didn’t cry out and alert the media. Literally. His eyes closed, no matter how much he wanted to keep them open so he could watch Cook, and his knees went weak.

Cook licked David until he became too sensitive. He tried to pull Cook away, but he couldn’t feel his fingers, even though he felt Cook’s head moving under his hand. David whimpered, and with one last lick Cook pulled off him. His hands were the only thing keeping David from sliding down the door to his knees, so he hoped Cook didn’t let go of him.

Cook stood, his hands pinning David to the door so he didn’t fall, sliding up David’s body as Cook rose, pushing up under David’s shirt and going around his back. Cook bent his head and took David’s mouth. It took David a moment to realize that he was tasting himself on Cook’s tongue, but when he did the knowledge went right to his groin, even though there was no way anything was going to happen after Cook had . . . .

Cook drew back and looked at him. David figured he must have a deer in the headlights expression, the way Cook started apologizing.

“Jesus, that was . . . inappropriate. Archie, I’m sorry, did I . . . are you . . . ?”

David laughed. Cook had just had his, his _dick_ in his mouth, and it had felt _amazing_. Cook looked . . . like he didn’t know what to think, like maybe David had lost it. And maybe he had, but he didn’t care, because he felt _awesome_.

“Can I do you?” David said as he pulled Cook down for another kiss. “I mean, maybe not right now, but later, after, um, after we kiss some more, and once I can feel my fingers again, and when we’re someplace . . . .”

Someone pounded on the door, and it vibrated through David, making him jump in surprise. His eyes opened wide, and Cook’s eyes looked like saucers. Someone, the PA that had brought David backstage, he thought, called their names. Cook cleared his throat and answered, somehow managing to not sound as if he and David had just been kissing, like he’d just had David’s _dick in his mouth_.

“We’ll be right out,” Cook said when the PA told them they were ready for them in the press room.

Cook looked down at David, whose pants were still around his knees.

“Oh, gosh.”

“Crap. Well, okay, we’ll just . . . .”

David started laughing again as Cook pulled his pants up and tried to tuck his shirt into them.

“You’re not actually helping much here,” Cook complained, and David laughed harder.

It took a couple of minutes, but they finally got David looking as though he hadn’t just been blown in one of the green rooms. Except for how his knees were still a little weak, and he had yet to regain feeling in the very tips of his fingers, and his lips felt swollen. Cook’s lips were also red and puffy, and David remembered what they’d looked like wrapped around him.

“I can’t do this,” David said. Cook gave him a sharp look, and David clarified, “The press, they’re all gonna know.”

It had to be written all over his face. There was no way it couldn’t be.

“They’re not going to know,” Cook reassured him. “They only see what they want to see.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, you didn’t say, what I said before . . . .”

Cook raised an eyebrow. David rubbed his hands together, feeling the flush heat his skin as it crept up his neck.

“Are you, um, doing anything, you know, after?”

Cook studied him for a minute, and then said, “How does pizza sound?”

“Pizza?”

“We don’t have to rush into anything, Archie.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” David said.

“We could, we could slow things down.”

“Is that what you want?” David asked, old insecurities bubbling up again.

“I want you to be sure, Archie. I just . . . don’t want you to be sorry.”

David leaned into Cook and tipped his head back. “You were right earlier.”

Cook tilted his head to the side and looked down at David. “About what?”

“You are an idiot.”

“Um, okay?”

“Now kiss me.”

Cook smiled. “Okay.”

It was short, and sweet, but there was the promise of more in Cook’s eyes. David was all for that.

Cook kept his arm over David’s shoulders as they walked out to meet the press. David slipped his arm around Cook’s waist beneath the jacket he wore, felt the heat of him through the shirt. David still worried that they’d be able to tell what he and Cook had been doing backstage, but he was too happy that he and Cook were friends again, maybe more, to let it keep him from cuddling up next to him and smiling into the lights.

“David Archuleta!” one of the members of the press called as soon as they caught sight of him and Cook. “What’s it like being back at Idol with David Cook?”

David smiled and said, “Oh, gosh, it’s amazing.”

The End


End file.
